Animal's House of Muse

Vibes to Feed the Hasty Soul with the States of All that Matters

Month: November, 2012


Let’s pick our space and run with it,
For time sits ripe today-
In extension we’ll find abstracted chances;
Dreams gone putrid, rotting under the weight
Of accumulated waste, flung atop as atopic, furtive glances
At our own morbidity; bore out of fear for killing the modality by which
We are delivered our nutrition,
Under the guise of becoming morally-enriched nitrates for the soil.
Why go on starving for the sake of peace-less in-expression?
May not a balance be found through bodily inclusion,
If by means of purification we ritualize digestion?
Independently forsaking the visceral storms of possibility
Grounding the current which bounds our affairs,
We choose as mundane superstition our highest acts
And rip apart thin air so that bedevilled
Delusions in place of the time-being may remain entertained,
Whilst our hearts grow deranged for want of direction.
Death and Care can relate to the Other differently,
And I, relatedly, am ready to allow fulfillment to unfold.
What else belongs alongside me?
With what heat must I brave the cold?
Let index scream out in warm harmonies,
If humanity ever finds the courage to transform its breath…

Read the rest of this entry »

Rock N Mould

I wish to outline my method,
To carve out a plausible way
From these immovable objectives,
Claiming rights to non-existence.
I see where others have tried,
With their bare knuckles and nails
Left blood stains and scratches,
As if hysterically trapped by that which
They could have worked around.
Feet firmly planted, I go about it differently;
For all I need is a light, heart-felt touch
And image appears, as if of its own accord,
So that it tickles me pink
With what this relation has taken
Over through responsibility.
I think I’ll leave the stains where they stand, though,
In keeping with the form
Of what others should have done-
I’ll work around it.
Besides, the hint of struggle is aesthetic…

Read the rest of this entry »

Remains of the Calm, Cool, and Collected

The vomit bore up from great heats, running deep
And dry, for the times, which ignite the flames-
Each new choking, delivered on behalf of the Self,
The result of a purging of all that be dealt
Towards the Person, entangled thoroughly in names…
Harmless, at first, till there’s a loss of trust in sleep…

Marvelous features hurled as a pile on top of a heap,
Of discoveries; All bits of realities ripped from their place
Without waiting for fulfillment of unbridled tasks,
Beant on impeding the Presence, in violation of Past-
Denying magnitudinal makings of Futures lacking Time and Space…
Through crisis, remember to breathe so that the heart beats…


Read the rest of this entry »